When the Shadow is you
by PheaVampire
Summary: To defeat Thranduil on his own land is no easy task. Not being able to strike at the king, the Shadow of Dol Guldur reaches instead for the prince.
1. PROLOGUE

**PROLOGUE**

Shadows crept over the forgotten ruins of Dol Guldur. They sneaked between patches of dead fog, snaked and slithered in the darkness.  
"The patrol is dead, master."  
An orkish voice rose among shapeless wraiths and broken walls. Darkness solidified. Anger flashed in the heart of Amon Lanc.  
The shadow spoke.  
"All of them?"  
"Yes, master."  
Whispers weaved in the dark. Wraiths passed through the fog. The ork waited for an answer.  
"We can not defeat the elven king" the shadow spoke. "The forest is his domain. We can not wrestle it by force."  
"What shall we do then?" whispered the Darkness. "Thranduil is not a foolish human. None of our spies will be able to gull him."  
The ork waited patiently. The wights fell silent. Listening.  
"He must die." the Darkness continued. "But none can approach the king. He is too well protected and never ventures into our lands."  
"No" said the Shadow. "Death of the king will accomplish nothing. His heir will take the throne."  
"Then we shall kill him as well."  
"They will elect a new king. No. That is not the way."  
Whispers rose again. The wights of Amon Lanc grew anxious.  
The ork waited.  
The shadow spoke again.  
"We do not require the death of Thranduil. Neither do we need a spy. We must plant a seed in the house of the king. A weed that will suck the lifeblood from the very heart of the Forest Realm; wound it deeper than our blades ever can. We need a traitor that will wrestle the crown from Thranduil."  
"They will overthrow him, as you said" stated the Darkness. "Elves do not kill their kings."  
"No. That is why the traitor will use deception."  
"And kill the heir?"  
A cold laughter filled the halls of Dol Guldur.  
"Wrong again. The heir shall be the traitor."  
"How?" the Darkness whispered in astonishment. "It is true we can reach him; he joins his guard in hunting our servants often enough, but he is still an elf. Elves do not betray their rulers."  
The wraiths fell silent. The fog laid still. Orkish lips parted in a wide, vicious smile. The shadow spoke.  
"Then let us make him be no longer an elf."


	2. PART 1

PART 1

Legolas sat on a mighty branch of a venerable great oak that remembered the times of Uncertain Peace, and looked down upon the leaves carried by the wind along the forest floor. He wished their rustle to tell of peace, maybe even happiness. He yearned to feel the joy of life and harmony. But the trees had long lost their strength.  
"It pains me to look at the forest. No more than twenty years ago it was so beautiful here."  
Legolas turned to the chestnut-haired elf. She stood on a nearby branch, scanning the deep forest carefully. "The Enemy can destroy even the most beautiful things, Turiel" he said. Who knows what would have happened to Lothlórien if he decided to settle there."  
The elf maiden's brows came together as she frowned.  
"Please don't even speak of that, my Lord" she said. "Valar be praised, for as long as Lady Galadriel holds dominion over the Golden Wood, we can rest safely."  
"That is true."  
They fell silent, Legolas closing his eyes, Tauriel gazing back into the undergrowth.  
"What do you make of these last attacks?" the elf suddenly asked. The Chestnut shrugged.  
"What am I to think, Lord? Orcs are vile creatures. They learned they didn't stand a chance and fled."  
"It's strange though. More frequently than usual do they attack the guardians, fight for but a few moments, and then retreat, neither gaining nor loosing anything."  
"What can one expect of mindless dogs?" Tauriel shouted. "Their master is far away, and so they thrash."  
The blond elf looked at her, deeply in thought. "You are wrong" he said at last. "Dol Guldur is no longer abandoned."  
The warrior maiden's eyes widened in surprise. "Has the Enemy..."  
"No, not this time. Mithrandir did however warn my father that something lurks there. The orcs of Mirkwood have a master once again, Tauriel."  
The elf maiden's hands balled into fists. "Then we must take one alive" she hastily replied. "If the attacks have a hidden purpose, interrogating one of them would be the quickest way."  
"That we shall do." Legolas said with a smile. "And you would probably like to be the one to acquire the prisoner."  
Tauriel spread out her hands. "You know me."  
The prince sighed happily. "You know, sometimes I have the feeling being a bodyguard is not for you" he said. "You should be on the battlefield, charging into enemy ranks with a battlecry, hair whipped by the wind. I'm certain whey would surrender without a fight."  
The warrior maiden smirked. "I can see you, Lord, right beside me."  
Legolas laughed. "Why did I ever speak?" The maiden was about to reply when a whistle sounded from beneath. They saw a guard standing under the tree. Legolas gracefully jumped down.  
"Have they appeared?"  
"Yes, my Lord. They are near the old Spider Nests. They are coming this way."  
"Let us greet them appropriately" said the prince of Mirkwood. "Remind the others we require at least one of them to be taken alive."  
The warrior nodded and re-merged with the undergrowth. In the meantime, Legolas drew his bow and climbed back onto he oak's branch.  
"Prepare yourself" he told Tauriel. "Soon you shall lead your charge." The warrior maiden unsheathed two short, thin blades and froze, waiting.  
Soon, the prince could hear the orcs passing through the forest. Clatter of armor, heavy footsteps, ragged breaths, the cries of plats being broken and stomped upon. Drawing his bow, Legolas couldn't hide the disgust showing on his face. Orcs. Vile, stupid monsters. Grotesque parodies of Iluvatar's creation. Creatures so revolting, that they were, in some roundabout way, laughable. They were his exact opposite. Violent, ruthless, ugly. Unable to pass even a measly flower without killing it. Beasts. Mindless beasts. Yes, it could be said that he hated them. It was natural. It was impossible to think otherwise about creatures who could only destroy.  
Impossible.  
He let loose as soon as the first orc head appeared between the trees. "Now!" he shouted.  
Pandemonium broke. The orcs, momentarily distracted, roared and charged the appearing elves. Steel impacted on steel. Legolas' arrows whizzed through the air one after the other.  
"Prince!" Tauriel shouted. "There!"  
Turning in the pointed direction, he spotted an orc that had detached from the main force, and was now trying to sneak upon an unsuspecting elf. He quickly drew and fired, hitting the offending beast in the knee. The orc howled in pain and fell heavily onto the forest floor.  
"Seems like we have our prisoner" Tauriel stated. "Should we join the fray? My blades are getting rusty."  
"With pleasure." Legolas smiled as he drew his own swords. I'm freshly out of arrows."  
They jumped down and dove into the fray. Scarcely minutes passed before the orcs started to give. Several elves drew their bows. A few moments and it was over.  
"They won't be coming back" Legolas finally decided. "We can return as well."  
He turned to the wounded orc. "Take care of him."  
The creature laid on the ground, breathing ruggedly. One elf bound his hands, two others dragged him to his feet. He sneered, shooting them a look full of hatred.  
The Prince of Mirkwood looked down upon the prisoner. "Why the game?" he demanded. "Why do you give up so fast? What orders did you receive? Speak, and you shall live."  
The orc sneered. "I don't need your mercy, elf" he hissed and spat at Legolas' feet.  
Tauriel's eyes flashed with anger. Before anyone could stop her, she punched the prisoner in the face with the hilt of her sword.  
"How dare you?!" she shouted. "You stand before the king's son, prince of the Forest Kingdom, Legolas Thranduillion, you spawn of Morgoth!"  
The orc howled in pain, blood trickling from his mouth. Legolas couldn't suppress the feeling of satisfaction. "Tauriel!" he warned. "I did not ask you for this!"  
He turned to the others. "Take him to the dungeon. Have a healer have a look at him. We can't let him..."  
That's when he heard a whiz.  
And then suddenly a hard tug and sharp, piercing pain in the left shoulder.  
Someone shouted. Probably one of the elves. Something rustled, as if huge wings... Someone beside him drew and fired. Probably too late.  
Legolas fell to his knees and slowly turned to look behind his shoulder. A long, black orcish arrow protruded from his shoulderblade.  
Squeezing his eyes shut, he rested his forehead against the nearest trunk and tried to concentrate despite the pain. Someone knelt beside him. "Lord!" an unnerved voice said. "Legolas! Can you hear me?"  
"Calm... Tauriel" the blond elf managed. "It's only... arrow. "Get it... out." What irony, he thought.  
The warrior maiden grabbed the shaft carefully. "Get ready" she said. "One. Two. Three."  
This time the tug caused him to almost blank out for a moment, a choked scream escaping his lips. Clutching the wound with trembling fingers and breathing heavily, Legolas turned to one of his companions who immediately began administering what aid he could. "Thank you, Altharis" the prince mumbled.  
The elf smiled weakly. "You shall be all right, my Lord," he said. "The would does not seem to be serious. Whomever had done it, did not show exceptional skill."  
The prince managed a short laugh. "Then I do not want to know how a serious one is like. Do you know who that was?"  
Altharis shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. As soon as we understood what was going on, something started from around those beeches," the elf nodded in their direction, "and apparently flew away. Irthyl and Saeris are searching for tracks as we speak."  
They fell silent. What irony, Legolas thought again. A master archer, shot by some amateur, and after the fight has already ended.  
He looked at Tauriel, who was still kneeling beside him, staring at the orcish arrow with wide eyes. She seemed to stir awake under the prince's gaze.  
"Why did I allow myself to be provoked?" she asked furiously. "If I had just watched the surroundings..."  
"It wouldn't have changed much" he finished for her. "You would not be able to stop it in any case. You would have to have known about the attack beforehand."  
"But I could have killed him" the Chestnut said gravely. "Do not find excuses for me." She threw the arrow down. Legolas smiled. Oh, Tauriel. You and your ambition. He was about to wink at Altharis, when laughter died on his lips. The elf who had been tending to him was still, eyes locked on the warrior maiden's hand.  
"Tauriel," he said in a strange voice, "show me your right hand."  
At first, Legolas coulnd't understand what was going on. Tauriel's palm was soaked in his blood. Nothing unusual. She did grip the arrow that only moments before had almost pierced him through.  
And then Tauriel opened her hand.  
Her fingers were black.


	3. PART 2

PART 2

Altharis didn't wait anymore. "Tauriel," he said, his tone grave, "take the prince to the healer. Now."  
The elf took her eyes away from her hand with great difficulty, and fearfully looked at her companions. "What...What is this thing?"  
"I do not know," Altharis said gently. "That is why we have no time to waste. They will know at the palace."  
"Maybe the prisoner..."  
"We shall take care of the prisoner. The safety of the prince has highest priority. You should know that."  
Legolas listened silently, feeling the shock recede into anxiousness. Even the searing pain of the wound seemed unimportant for a moment. Chaotic thoughts flew through his mind. Mustering his willpower, he pushed them back and tried to concentrate.  
There was no doubt just what has the arrow been dipped into. There was no time to loose. Since the poison didn't kill him outright, a quick intervention could nullify it.  
He just needed to walk.  
The prince grit his teeth and stood up with great difficulty. "He's right," he said, cutting the argument off. "Let's go."  
Altharis studied him closely.  
"I do not think there is anything wrong, aside from damage from the arrowhead of course," he spoke uncertainly, "But you should hurry nonetheless. Tauriel, bring the arrow, it is our only lead. You two will accompany them."  
Legolas didn't wait any longer. He had to hurry after all.  
He had to walk.  
He walked.  
'Legolas!"  
He turned, his gaze questioning.  
"My Lord," Tauriel corrected herself, "the palace... is that way."  
They fell silent. Finally, the prince laughed a bit forcefully.  
"Oh," he said. "Right. Of course."  
The warrior maiden smiled weakly. Without a word she approached the blond elf, surrounding him with her arms, and gently prompted to lean on her shoulder.  
Legolas didn't resist.

**~.oOo.~**

The return journey took longer than usual. The guards were constantly checking the prince's face, ready to react at any sign of growing weakness. Tauriel chastised herself loudly for her lack of discipline every few minutes. His shoulder seared with pain with every step, but, at his astonishment, nothing else was happening. Even so, he was still anxious, and not only because of the strange poison. His mind, now focused, was analyzing the attack. One thought never went away.  
Who was the target?  
Did they want any elf, or me specifically, he thought. What could they gain shooting a random person with a single poisoned arrow? Was is some sort of a twisted message? A Warning? If, however, the target was to be him...  
"Tauriel," he said aloud, "what could my father's enemies gain from killing me? From the strategic point of view?"  
The elf snapped her head up.  
"How do we know they wanted you specifically?" she asked quickly. "You were just a clear target."  
"I wouldn't want to add to your self-pity, but they shot right after you yelled my name, with the title and everything." The guards laughed.  
Tauriel's face heated up. "You just did," she quipped. "All right. Your death would have left the king without an heir. Isn't that obvious?"  
The prince was deep in thought. "Do you think so? Then the assassins wouldn't have gained much. Did they forget that elves do not die? I doubt I will ever prove useful as an heir..."  
Chestnut shrugged. "These are orcs," she stated simply. "Death is an everyday occurrence for them. They have long forgotten immortal life. They are no wiser than dogs."  
"No," Legolas agreed, a shadow passing over his face. "They are not."  
He blinked.  
"Did I just say something?"

**~.oOo.~**

They reached the palace at twilight. Tauriel immediately took Legolas to his chambers, while the guards went to fetch a healer. The prince entered the room and with visible relief sat on his ornamental bed. He was so tired.  
"Tell me," he asked, "has something like this happened before? Did other orcish bands sneakily attack someone after the fight was over?"  
The maiden shook her head. Legolas sighed. "I thought so."  
He fell silent. The wound seared. Someone could have already come. How long will he have to rest? Three weeks? Four? That was inconvenient. He wanted to be outside. Go out into the forest, sneak around branches, maybe slaughter a band of orcs, go on, and then...  
And then what?  
Weird, he thought. It is as if I have forgotten something important. Something I meant to do.  
He was woken from his musings by the sound of footsteps. In the doorway stood a blond elf in a white robe, one of the royal healers.  
"Where is the shot?" he asked without preamble.  
Tauriel handed him the arrow. Legolas noted that the black ichor on the head solidified into a thin brittle shell that fell off on touch. It was to be expected. The healer looked at it closely, and then approached his patient; he, unprompted, gingerly removed the tunic from his shoulder. The blond gently removed the bandage. Tauriel watched his face silently.  
"My prince," the healer asked after a while. "Do you feel any pain aside from the wound?"  
Legolas shook his head. "No."  
"Is your head swimming?"  
"No."  
The blond asked a few more questions, pressed in a few places near the shoulder, and applied some ointment around the wound. Finally, a slight smile crept on his stern face. Tauriel released a breath. "It seems there is no danger. You simply need to rest, my prince. I will have someone change your bandage in the morning. You should not strain yourself for at least half a month. I also advise..."  
He didn't get a chance to finish before the door opened again, revealing a tall High Elf with golden hair and a stern gaze, a silver cloak draped across his shoulders. Tauriel immediately bowed in a military style. Legolas stood up.  
"Good evening, father."  
"Sit down," Thranduil spoke simply. "I heard you are wounded. Wounded should not be standing up."  
The prince smiled and fell back onto the pillows, while the king spoke to the healer: "What is this I hear about a poison? Is my son really in danger, or did the guards exaggerate?"  
The blond elf showed him the arrow. "Truth be told, we cannot be sure, your highness," he said. "So far, not counting the damage done by the arrowhead itself, the prince seems to be fine. It cannot be argued, however, that this black substance has been applied to some end."  
Thranduil frowned, but got visibly calmer. "Indeed. Thank you. If this is everything that can be done for now, you can go."  
The healer bowed. "I shall visit you in the morning, my prince," he told Legolas. "If you would feel worse, in any way, do not hesitate to send for me." He took the arrow and left.  
The king drew himself a chair and looked upon his son with worry. "What a coincidence," he began softly. "For months the orcs regularly attack our patrols, and the mysterious archer appears for the first time when my firstborn son is in command."  
"Looks like he has good taste," Legolas joked.  
Thranduil didn't smile. "This isn't funny, Legolas," he rebuked a bit more harshly. "It is as if they were waiting for you to appear among the guard. What is more, this is not the way the orcs act. I wonder too how could they be sure to target the right person."  
Legolas was about to answer when Tauriel, so far silent, said in a nervous voice, "It was my fault, lord."  
Thranduil turned toward her, eyebrows rised.  
"We took a prisoner," the warrior maiden continued. "Legolas asked him a question, and he... I knew how he would answer, I had no right to react... he insulted the prince. I have been overcome with anger and yelled whom he is dealing with right into his face. I have made a fatal mistake. I am ready to face your judgment, my lord."  
Tauriel lowered her head. Legolas sighed. And you could have left it to me.  
"You have disappointed me, Tauriel," the elven king said gravely. "I did not expect such childish behavior from you."  
"I have no excuse, my lord."  
Thranduil was silent for a long moment. Finally, he spoke.  
"You will interrogate the prisoner. Perhaps that will help you control yourself."  
"But before that," Legolas added, "send a servant here, please. I would like some water."  
Tauriel seemed shocked by the king's decision. Nevertheless, she clicked her heels and left without a word, followed by the gaze of father and son.  
Thranduil looked at the prince. "Would you not prefer vine?" he asked. "There is nothing better for fresh wounds than spirits from our cellars." His grim expression returned. "If you feel anything worrying, and I mean anything, inform the healers immediately."  
"Father..." Legolas began softly, "I'm fine. Really. Well, fine aside from the hole in my back that is. Whatever they used on the arrow didn't work. I do not believe the orcs know alchemy very well."  
Thranduil looked him in the eyes, without a hint of a smile. "You know only chaotic, disorganized wandering tribes, attacking without an objective or strategy," he said in a strange voice. "You did not see the battle of Dagorlad. You did not see the might of Mordor."  
"Father, this is Mirkwood. The Black Gate is far away."  
"Yes," the king agreed, "but what now resides in Dol Guldur came from beyond it."  
Someone knocked. A servant bearing a crystal chalice appeared in the half-open doorway.  
"Lord Legolas asked for water..."  
Thranduil stood up, his face serene again. "Indeed. The prince is ill. Please make sure to be near in case he requires something."  
The servant nodded. "Yes, my lord."  
The king looked at Legolas again. "Good night, my son."


End file.
